


Feed Me Your Love

by viksherenqueer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Breastfeeding, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Grinding, Kink Negotiation, Massage, Mommy Kink, Other, Random Noah's ark residents as well, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewood Discussed but Not Used, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Warlock is there briefly as a baby, feederism, mommy dom/little boy, no beta we die like men, possible historical inaccuracies because i have no idea what im doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viksherenqueer/pseuds/viksherenqueer
Summary: In which Aziraphale has some leftover mommy issues stemming from the Almighty, and it takes him a couple thousand years to say anything. Oh, and he really has a thing for breastfeeding.





	Feed Me Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [krazieLeylines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazieLeylines/gifts).

> a belated bday gift to my best friend lorien! hope you enjoy this. i tried to encompass a bunch of different kinks in here and also ended up channeling some porkri energy tbh. i had originally started writing this where aziraphale had a dick but i changed it because i felt like you'd like it better and im pretty glad i did

Aziraphale at heart had always been a bit of a momma's boy. It stemmed from his creation as a cherub; a being whose sole duty is to protect Her. So after the incident in Eden and her followed radio silence, it left him feeling rather bereft.

This continuous lack of motherly attention had led to a series of confused feelings over the centuries. He tried to pass most of them off as silly, emotional desires but he couldn't explain the distinctly sexual appeal behind them that had him feeling rather uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was best if he started at the beginning. Not The beginning of course, but relatively close.

**Mesopotamia 3004 BCE**

It was his job to board the ark and see to it that Noah and his family stayed safe during the flood. What he hadn't expected was that wily demon making an appearance and seeming so damn distraught about it all. Of course, Aziraphale hated the idea of any children dying, but it was God's will. Who was he to question it?

That being said, when he found Crawly with a bunch of stowaway children on the ark, he certainly didn't throw them overboard. He even, despite his better judgment, miracled Noah and his family to accept Crawly and the children as passengers. What he didn't know is that Crawly had been invited aboard without any need for a miracle. He didn't learn this until later when speaking to one of Noah's son's wives. She was a lovely young thing with a distended belly that was ready to burst.

"Crawly is one of the best birthers we had, so having her along has eased my worries," she tells him, catching him off guard. Crawly was a mid-wife?

He listens intently as he's fed stories by some of the women around him. Crawly was apparently very caring and supportive, and none of the women she helped give birth had died doing so. He thinks Crawly might be performing a few miracles to keep these women alive through the ordeal, but he doesn't say anything.

Later he notices Crawly entertaining some of the kids below deck. The rocking of the ship had unnerved some of them and Crawly's little story about a magical talking snake seemed to cheer them right up. Aziraphale found himself smiling as he took in the sight. Then he found himself confused. Demons were meant to evil, awful creatures yet... Crawly was so soft, especially like this. It made him feel warm and discontented all at once.

It isn't until the second week that the young woman gives birth, and Aziraphale finds himself lucky enough to watch. At least, that's what he thinks going into it. He'd never seen a human being born before and he thought it must be magical.

It was not.

There was a lot of screaming and crying, just high-pitched wailing in between short, haggard breaths. Aziraphale found himself unable to watch and turned his attention to Crawly, who was rubbing the woman's legs soothingly and talking her through it. Aziraphale could feel every ebb of a miracle performed to keep this woman alive through the birth despite the startling amount of blood.

"How is any of this demonic?" He inquires one day when he finds Crawly in a cabin, alone save the baby in her arms that was merely a few days old.

Crawly gives him a guarded expression. "I've spent plenty of time grooming these people to trust me so I can discourage their belief in God," she simply states, and even Aziraphale can see it tastes stale in her mouth.

"Ah," is all he says, detecting that she didn't want him to inquire further. "Well, you did stowaway a bunch of children that weren't supposed to be saved. Quite evil."

She grins. It reminds him of her comment on the wall, about angels not being able to do the wrong thing. "Thanks. I try."

It's quiet for a few minutes before he sits to watch the baby. "How is he?"

"Healthy. Cries and eats and soils himself like any regular baby would." She shrugs and despite the detached tone of her words, her fingers graze over the child's soft scalp like he's a cherished object. "Want to hold him?"

"Oh, well. How do I?" He inquires, holding his arms out. Crawly gently hands the child over, showing him how to support its head and cradle it properly. "Oh, well, this is lovely. What a tiny human."

"They are so small," Crawly agrees, watching the baby wake up. His eyes roam around sleepily before settling on her and he gurgles happily. Aziraphale notices the way her eyes light up. He's hands the baby right back to her.

"Hi there," Crawly coos in a soft voice, before pausing to give Aziraphale a look. "You ever tell anyone about this and I will end you." It's an empty threat.

"Nobody would believe me anyway."

Crawly nods before going back to her cooing. The baby gently grips at the front of her robes, yanking. Within moment's he's looking cranky and whining softly.

"Oh you're hungry," Crawly hums. Aziraphale expects her to get up and take him to her mother. He does not expect Crawly to start twisting her robe off to free a small, albeit swollen tit and bring the child to it. He begins suckling in earnest, his cries immediately silenced.

Aziraphale doesn't realize he's staring for a long moment before he looks up to see Crawly's caught his gaze, brows raised. "O-oh, sorry. It's just. I didn't know beings like us were capable of that."

"Ah," Crawly nods, stroking the babies scalp gently. "Well it comes with the territory of being a mid-wife. Mothers need lots of rest after giving birth and sometimes it's easier to just feed them myself." She sighs, looking down at the baby with this look of content. "Plus some mother's produce milk slower than others and it's harder for them to feed. I, luckily, never run dry."

* * *

Never run dry. Those words haunted Aziraphale's fantasies for years if he was being honest. He had long buried those thoughts by the time the antichrist was born, just for them to be brought back by Nanny Ashtoreth.

She was sat in his cabin on the Dowling grounds with baby Warlock cocooned in her lap. Aziraphale and her hadn't had a proper talk in weeks and it was refreshing to joke around with her again.

"That awful cockney accent you put on though," she huffs, not having touched the glass of wine Aziraphale had poured her. "I mean _fuck_ angel, it's bad."

"Oh come off it," he huffs, already on his third glass. "Something wrong with the Merlot? I have a few other bottles in the kitchen if you'd prefer something else."

"Oh no," she waves her hand nonchalantly. "I shouldn't drink anyway. Harriet is out of the country this week so I'm the one nursing Warlock."

Oh. Aziraphale stiffly nods, downing the rest of his glass to distract himself. It's quiet for a few minutes before the baby wakes up, crying for attention.

Even after a fresh nappy, he still seems distraught. Crowley sighs as she begins unbuttoning her blouse, her eyes catching Aziraphale's. "Mind if I...?" She trails off, once again waving her hand as if that finished her sentence.

"Oh, no, go right ahead." He wasn't about to starve the child, obviously.

He gulps a bit as Crowley undoes her buttons, obviously not wearing a bra. She pulls the fabric aside to expose a pale breast, offering it to the babe. She rolls her eyes when he doesn't eat. "He gets bored of feeding on the same one sometimes," she explains to the angel as she pushes the other side of her blouse open, fully exposed. She flips Warlock around and sighs thankfully as he begins to nurse on her left breast.

Aziraphale wonders what it tastes like. He's read that it's like regular milk but less fatty in taste and far sweeter. He ignores the way his mouth waters.

Deeper down though, he finds himself jealous. The way Crowley is  
cradling the child so carefully, watching him with this sort of adoration that she couldn't hide.

"What does that feel like?" Aziraphale asks before he can stop himself.

"Huh?" She looks up, blinking a few times as she sits on that question. "It's... Well, it's a warm mouth sucking on my tit." She snorts a bit, but her words are soft instead of her usual sharp humor. "It's nice. Kind of wild to think I'm producing nutrition to make this little runt grow." She sighs, fingers threading through the baby's soft curls. "Feels good to... Nurture something. Help it grow. I bet he feels safe like this..." There's a vulnerability to her voice that makes Aziraphale inexplicably weak.

_You could do that to me_, he thinks. He bites his tongue, not trusting himself to speak. He's quiet for most of the evening and eventually, Crowley retires with the child.

And again, Aziraphale suffers from more fantasies of being doted on and cradled and nursed. These last for a few years before he finally tires of them and packs them up in a neat little mental box to store away for another day.

That day apparently being today.

It was about three years past the world not ending and Aziraphale had come back to his shop with a few boxes from his favorite bakery. He always went in for just one or two things and ended up purchasing way too much. It wasn't his fault they all looked so delicious.

He had bought some of those mini brownies Crowley seemed fond of. At least, he thought so. He wasn't sure Crowley actually tasted them. It always looked more like the demon just swallowed them whole like a snake.

"Crowley?" He calls, flitting around in his search for his boyfriend. He finds a mess of shopping bags on their bed and the bathroom door is slightly ajar, some rustling coming from inside. "Bought some new clothes?" He inquires, surprised by the sheer amount of them as he pushes the door aside and pauses.

Crowley had switched from the masculine frame they had been sporting for the last few years to their more feminine one. And here she was, clad in nothing more than a silken, black nightie. She turns to give him a look.

"Ugh, this was supposed to be a surprise." She huffs, crossing her arms. This movement just draws the angel's eyes lower, noting the demon's pert nipples tenting against the shiny fabric. She must be cold.

"Well... I am surprised," he finally offers in response when his eyes finally trail upwards again. "You look magnificent."

"Thought you'd like it," she grins, flashing her sharp canines. "It's a little more old-fashioned, more modest. Just your style."

"I do rather enjoy leaving a little to the imagination," he hums, eyes back to raking her. "Gosh, you are absolutely ravishing."

"Well," she hums, popping herself up onto the counter and crossing her legs teasingly. "Ravish me then."

"Such a temptress," he huffs, coming over to touch her knees. He lets his eyes roam, thinking about all the lovely places he wants to touch. He finally leans in to kiss her, quickly moving down her jaw and against her neck. Before he knows it, he's got his face between her breasts and it knocks the top off that neat little mental box he packed away years ago.

The fingers stroking his curls don't help. He takes a deep breath to ground himself, taking in her new perfume and the smallest hint of smoke.

"Did I break you?" Crowley jokes after a moment, planting a kiss on top of his head and hugging him close.

"It just feels rather nice to have my head here," he hums, letting himself enjoy this much. He wasn't sure he'd have the gall to ask for more. "Feels... Safe."

Crowley melts a bit, one hand sinking to the back of the angel's neck to gently knead the muscles there. It's quiet for a few minutes before Crowley asks if they can lay in the bed instead. The bathroom counter is cold.

He's a little dazed as they make it to the bed, Crowley miracling the shopping bags into the closet to make room for them. They find themselves cocooned in some blankets, Aziraphale's head buried against her chest. The silk is soft and cool against his cheek and the bite of her nipples occasionally poking him through the fabric. Crowley just strokes his hair back and it's just as fulfilling as he imagined. There's still this underlying heat though, this sense of want and need that he finds hard to explain.

It wasn't as if Crowley and him didn't indulge in each other's odder kinks. Aziraphale was fond of food in the bedroom, as well as a nice bit of power-play and perhaps some possessive marking like hickeys or cumplay. And Crowley liked it when it hurt a bit, when they were pinned down at the mercy of their angel, or when Aziraphale let them warm his cock or go down on him for hours and he would repay them with heaps of praise and compliments. They had discussed lots of things but Aziraphale had always refrained from this.

"I..." He starts, going silent for a moment. "I want to ask for something weird."

"Okay," Crowley replies after a moment of hesitation. "Like.. Bad weird or?"

"Sex weird."

"Oh. Okay, yeah no, ask away. Y'know I'll try anything once." Crowley shrugs, the movement causing the silk to ruffle against Aziraphale's face.

"So... I've done some research into this before since I was curious where some of my feelings and fantasies stemmed from since a lot of them can be traced back to our psychological state and--"

"You're overthinkin' angel. Just say it."

"I have a mommy kink."

It's quiet for an achingly long moment, a moment that gives Aziraphale an opening to panic. "I know it's weird and obviously if you're uncomfortable we don't have to do it-"

"Angel," Crowley silences him, a hand in his curls scritching his scalp. "Look, I'm down. You calling me mommy definitely isn't the weirdest thing we've done." She sighs, kissing the top of his head again. "What else do you want me to do?"

"Just being held like this is nice," he admits, relieved. He kisses her breast softly through the thin fabric. "Maybe refer to me as your baby boy or something of the sort..."

"Can do."

"...Perhaps a spanking if I'm naughty?"

"I like the sound of that," Crowley admits, hooking a leg around Aziraphale's hip. "My naughty baby boy."

The angel's quim twitches to life at those words, just a sweet little pulse directly to his clit. "Maybe you could spoon-feed me desserts? I did stop at the bakery on the way home."

"Mmm, maybe some belly rubs?" Crowley inquires.

"If you'd like," Aziraphale chimes, hands gently roaming. He feels along her ribs, fingertips dipping with each indent. Such a sweet opposite of his own body.

"I think I'm gonna enjoy this. Y'know I'm a damn sucker for spoiling your bratty arse." She laughs and Aziraphale snorts in return. "Any other ideas?"

He pauses for a painstakingly long moment, stuck in debate. "It's weirder."

"I'm all ears. If you'd like, I could literally be all ears. Give me a few minutes and I'll grow a whole fuckton of the weird lookin' things. Got an ear kink by any chance?”

"No, and no thanks," Aziraphale snorts at the idea. Some of the unfiltered gibberish that came out of the demon's mouth was downright nonsensical. "Look, I just... Remember Warlock?"

"Kid we thought was the antichrist and I spent over half a decade raising? Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

Aziraphale gives her a little pinch for being mouthy.

"Ah-" she makes a noise before starting up again. "What a bad little boy, pinching mommy like that."

Aziraphale's breath hitches, an electrical pulse of pleasure shooting down between his legs. "Sorry," he quickly murmurs, burying his face again. He waits for Crowley to stroke his hair again, a sign he’s no longer a bad boy, before he tries to recount his previous train of thought.

"Well... You know that thing you did with Warlock sometimes?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific. I dressed, bathed, changed, fed, played with, and much more with the kid."

"The feeding part."

"Eh, you wouldn't like baby food angel. It's horrid. Flavorless mush that comes in countless shades of  
vomit."

"Not baby food, Crowley." Aziraphale huffs. "I meant when you were... Well, nursing him."

Silence. More silence. "Oh, huh. That's why you always stared like that."

"I did not stare!"

"You totally did. I just thought you were wonderin' if my demon DNA was seeping evil into the milk or something. Wouldn't have guessed you wanted to try it."

"I did not think you were feeding the baby evil milk, Crowley. Even though I wouldn't put cheating of that nature past you." He huffs at his demon's sense of humor.

"Rude. But fair." She snorts, going quiet for a moment. "You'd like it. Breast milk, I mean. Real sweet. At least mine is. Haven't tasted anyone else's."

Aziraphale sputters for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "You've... Tasted your own?"

"'Zira, anyone who has ever nursed has definitely tasted their own milk. Curiosity and whatnot." She rolls her eyes. Aziraphale doesn't see her do this, but he feels the movement. Crowley tended to roll her whole head along with her eyes.

"That is..." He had no words to describe how hot that was. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, shifting his uncomfortable heat against her as a way of finishing his sentence. It doesn’t have the same unf to it as if he had a cock, but he hopes she understands.

She sighs softly, reaching down to squeeze at one of her breasts. "Give 'em a few minutes. Always takes a bit when I'm first starting up. How about you go get those bakery boxes?"

Aziraphale disentangles himself from her, rather reluctantly, but fetches the boxes all the same. Crowley might fret if he miracled them in. Or not. Aziraphale wasn't sure with this new dynamic quite yet.

He returns with them, a plate, and some silverware. It probably wouldn't get much use but he brought it all the same. Crowley is sat up on the bed, red curls fluffed about and one of the straps of her nightie hanging off her shoulder in a way that reminded him of vintage pornography magazines. He'd certainly buy it if she was on the cover.

"Good boy," she hums, patting the bed. "Bring those here and strip down to your skivvies. Mommy wants to see you."

He shudders hard but manages to carefully set down the boxes and silverware before starting on his clothes. His fingers shake a little in his excitement and he fumbles with the same button for a fraction too long because suddenly Crowley's hands at shooing his away.

"Let me," she hums, delicately undoing each button. He watches her fingers work, admiring the bony appendages and her freshly manicured acrylics. She must have gotten those done today. They’re lovely and not too long or pointed, something he could be grateful for. At one point he had watched Crowley finger themself with those pointed cat claw nails and was quite worried they’d end up bleeding or something of the sort. Not that the nails would actually cut or hurt anything if they were expected not to, but the worry still remained.

She makes quick work of his waistcoat, her hands sliding over every inch of him as she ushers it off and neatly folds it before working on his shirt. His trousers are last and he watches her with bated breath as she undoes each button. “I’ve probably said this before, but you don’t own a single article of clothing with a zipper, do you?” She chuckles softly.

“I have several coats,” he supplies, slipping his pants down once they’re done. He goes to fold them himself but she takes them. Her folding isn’t as neat, but the gesture is all that counts. She stands up to carry his clothes across the room, setting them neatly on a chair. 

“Take a seat, sweetie.” She starts, Aziraphale doing so without hesitation. “Is this tone of voice alright?” He tells her it is. “What’s our safeword?”

“Apple.”

“That might not work with the food,” she makes a face, coming over to peek inside the bakery boxes. “Anything apple-flavored?”

“No.”

“Alright, then we should be fine.” His heart sinks a little when she closes the boxes instead of deciding on a treat to feed him. “Ready to start?” Aziraphale feels a little silly with how overzealously he nods. “Good.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Crowley seeming to put a scene together in her head. She suddenly folds her arms, looking rather cross. Aziraphale’s stomach does an uneasy flip. “Darling, you have been such a naughty little boy.” She tsks, shaking her head. “Now I want you to sit right here and think about what you’ve done, alright? Mommy will be right back.” She gives him a warning look, her golden eyes wide and predator-like. There’s no threat there though, but the disappointment in her voice is enough to make him shrink back. He watches her leave the room, hanging his head and huffing. He had no idea what exactly he had done to be considered naughty, his mind drifting into different possibilities. 

The first that hits him is the bakery boxes. He did have a tendency to buy far too many sweets. While Crowley had reassured him many times before that they enjoyed Aziraphale’s weight, he couldn’t help but feel like a sad pile of rolls sometimes. He huffs, trying to shove any negative thoughts out of his mind. Crowley probably just didn’t think up much past him being naughty and didn’t even have a real reason. He was about to have a great time indulging in a kink he’d kept hidden for several thousand years. _Buck up_, he told himself. 

When she comes back he chances a glance up, the object in her hand causing his mind to go blank. She gently thwaps the inside of her palm with the wooden spoon, watching him with those eyes of hers. “Have you been thinking about what you’ve done?”

He gulps but nods, eyes flickering between hers and the spoon. She gives a curt nod.

“Then you understand why you deserve to be punished, yes?”

A shudder runs up his spine, rendering him senseless for a long moment before he regains enough composure to nod again. He vaguely feels his clit pulse between his legs and he readjusts himself, amazed as he feels his slick folds glide together, drenched. He was aching for this.

“Stand,” she points with the spoon, moving it upward and he follows it’s movement into a standing position. She goes over to sit on the edge of the bed, patting her lap. He doesn’t even have to be told to lay across her legs, back up to her. She spreads her legs a bit to help him distribute himself, one of his hands finding purchase in the bedding and the other on her knee. 

It’s quiet for a long minute as she just touches the length of his spine, fingers coming down to brush the back hem of his briefs before retreating back upwards. Everytime he relaxes a little, she makes him tense again. It’s a cruel game that lasts seemingly forever. Finally, _finally_, she bushes his underwear down to his knees. Her fingers gently brush up his thigh and rest on his bottom, rubbing soothing circles. “Aziraphale…” She sighs softly, almost sounding sad. It yanks at his heartstrings in a way that’s nearly painful. “I hate having to punish you, my sweet little boy, but… You’ll never learn otherwise…” He nods fervently, wanting her to know he understands. “I just want you to be good for mommy and this is the only way…” He nods again, hard enough that he’s sure any normal person would get whiplash. “And this doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she supplies, now taking the edge of the wooden spoon and running it along his arse crack. “I’m doing this _because_ I love you.”

“I know, mommy.” Aziraphale nearly whimpers, voice barely above a whisper. It’s the first time he’s called her mommy aloud and it tightens the muscles in his gut in such a way that he’s sure he could cum from words alone if he tried. 

“I’m glad. You’ve always been such a smart little boy…” She affectionately ruffles his curls for a long moment before her hand slides down to rest between his shoulder blades. All is still for what seems like an eternity before the spoon comes down on his bottom, hard. He yelps out, body going rigid. She waits for him to relax before delivering another blow to the other cheek. She alternates like this, back and forth, occasionally interjecting with that sweet voice of hers. “This hurts me more than it hurts you, baby, I promise.” She tells him as she places a particularly hard hit on his right cheek, the thick plush of his skin jiggling with the blow. 

The last hit lands very near his aching mound, sending a jolt of fear and excitement up through his body that vocalizes in a small, startled moan. Then the spoon is set aside on the bed in his line of view and the tender flesh of his arse is kneaded softly between her thin fingers. “What a beautiful shade of pink…” She trails off. The angel turns his head to peek at himself, noting that his bottom was a swollen mess of pink marks. The sight alone makes him think he could cum in seconds if she would just _touch_ him.

She spends the next few minutes just stroking the spots, which seems like a double-edged sword. Sometimes it feels nice, sometimes it hurts. Aziraphale just keeps still and takes it like the good little boy he is. Then he feels her moving him gently and he tries to help, tries to stand, but his legs feel like jelly. 

“It’s okay baby,” Crowley coos, helping him lay on his stomach on the bed. “Just stay there for a moment, okay? You took your punishment so well. Such a good boy.” He hears her footsteps pad across the floor and change as she steps on the bathroom tiles, a little bit of rustling, and then she’s on her way back. The bed dips next to him as she sits, the familiar sound of a lotion bottle pump quietly squeaking giving away her intentions. He sighs as she massages cool lotion into the hot skin of his arse, the substance soothing his pain a bit. 

“You have the cutest little butt,” she says suddenly as she adds another pump to her hand, stroking her fingers up along his lower back and massaging a bit of lotion along his love handles. “I’d pinch it if it wasn’t so sore,” she chuckles, fingers running all along his hips and down his thighs. “Such a good boy for momma… How about a little treat?”

Aziraphale perks up a bit at that, nodding his head. 

“Words, honey.” Crowley instructs.

“I would like that, mommy.” He amends quickly.

She hums in approval and flits about for a moment before she has Aziraphale sit up. She’s miracled up a silk blanket for him to sit his sore bottom on so there’s no chance of the fabric irritating it and he melts a little at the thought. He settles down with his back against the headboard as she sits in front of him on her knees, bakery boxes spread out around them. 

She starts with a single french macaroon, shiny and white and wafting the scent of vanilla about. He hums as she holds it to his lips, taking a neat bite and savoring in the textures. The gentle crunch of the outer shell, the delicious cream of the center, all of it bouncing around his tongue and earning a pleased little hum from the angel. 

He eats another one before moving on to the chocolate eclairs, icing and filling smearing on his lips. She holds a hand under his chin to catch crumbs as she feeds him, chuckling and dusting the crumbs off into a box before using her thumb to wipe his lips clean. She pops it right in his mouth once she’s done and he doesn’t hesitate to suck and lick until there isn’t a trace of sugar left. 

This continues for quite a while, Crowley feeding the angel all kinds of delicacies. Chocolate fudge, thick and sweet and heavy on the cocoa. Chocolate chip cookies that are pleasantly warm because they’re expected to be, leaving gooey bits of chocolate around Aziraphale’s mouth and lingering in his teeth. Fluffy, spongy cake with frosting so delectable Aziraphale moans around each bite. By the time he’s sampled everything, he’s not sure he can even move anymore.

“Such a good boy,” Crowley hums softly, scooting nice and close to kiss his mouth and cheeks. “You have to eat to keep growing and you always eat everything I give to you,” she coos, her fingers brushing down the angel’s neck and making him melt. “You make mommy so happy.” 

Aziraphale is in heaven. Not literally, of course. This is much better than the actual Heaven, which was cold and plain and lacked sweets of any sort. This was heavenly in the sense that he had entered a headspace of complete bliss, where it was just him and Crowley and the sugar leftover on his tongue. 

He sighs softly as he feels Crowley’s mouth on his collar bone, then on his chest, then on his distended belly. He whines a bit as he feels her press on it, the pressure slightly uncomfortable. She shooshes him softly, letting up and rubbing soothing circles. He’d feel embarrassed over how her fingers glide between the rolls of his sides and under the overhang of his belly if it wasn’t for the soft kisses and quiet praise she was whispering against his skin. 

“So perfect,” she hums as her thumbs work circles into the area above his stomach. “What a beautiful baby boy you are. So warm and soft. Every part of you is a delight to touch. I mean it.” 

Aziraphale chances a look at her, groaning softly as he realizes she’s covered him in lipstick marks. All her’s. He belonged solely to his mommy and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Do you think you have any room left in there?” She inquires, placing her eat flat against his tummy. He gives a little nod before remembering she wanted him to use words.

“I think so.”

“Good. I bet you’re simply parched after all that.” She coos and he feels himself perk up a little out of his sluggish state. He was absolutely dying of thirst. As an angel he didn’t actually require liquids to survive, but as Crowley’s baby boy? His mouth was drier than the Sahara.

He struggles a bit to shift around with such a full stomach, but he manages. Crowley props herself up against some pillows on a gentle incline, cradling Aziraphale’s head against her collar and kissing his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. He whines softly as she drags out the kiss, her impossibly long tongue gliding around the inside of his mouth and hitting all the spots that tickled or made him weak. She finally retracts, soothing back his curls and moving to push down the front of her nightie a bit.

He takes a long moment to admire the sight in front of him. Her breasts are small and upturned, pointing high up and pronouncing her pink nipples in a lovely manner. He gently reaches up to stroke his fingers along one, the nipple catching under his fingertip for a moment before enough pressure builds up for it to give way and let him pass. She sighs softly, watching him with intent eyes. He cups his hand around the whole breast, thumb pausing to stroke along the inside breastbone before giving it a little squeeze. He gasps as a bit of white squirts out, the milk splattering back down and running along her pale skin. It’s warm as it touches his skin and he can’t hold back anymore, leaning in to lap it all up. 

He takes a moment to take it like he would a wine at a restaurant. It’s warm and sweet, settling well on his tongue and igniting some fire deep down in his belly. He finally looks up at Crowley, watching her for a long moment as if asking permission.

She seems to get it because she reaches forward, hand cupping the back of his head and leading him down to her left tit. He wraps his lips around the swollen nipple, experimentally giving a gentle suck. He moans as he feels a splash of milk in his mouth, his body melding against hers as he settles in to drink his fill. 

It’s not just the milk that gets to him though. The way her arms cradle around him protectively, that soft look in her eyes as she watches him, manicured nails on his scalp, like he’s the most precious thing in the world to her. He feels weak and vulnerable but _safe_. He’s never felt more safe than he does with her, and it simultaneously grounds him and pushes him further into his own headspace. 

“Not so hard, sweetie,” she coos softly when his suckling becomes a little more desperate. “There’s plenty to be had, just be patient.” 

So he tries his best to be patient, just drinking until he was sure he couldn’t hold anymore. Even then he just sort of holds his mouth there, reluctant to break the intimate moment. Crowley seems to get this, not inquiring or interrupting and just letting him take all the time he needs.

Finally, he pulls back, looking up at her with loving eyes. Despite his stuffed stomach, he feels gooey and weak and emotional. It’s a pleasant combination somehow.

“All full?”

“Yes,” he nods softly, earning a kiss on his forehead. Crowley moves to gently roll him over onto his back and he does so without argument. He’s not sure he could even put up a fight anymore, not that he wanted to. Quite the opposite, really.

“You’ve been such a darling little boy for momma,” Crowley hums as she sits up, towering over him and raking her eyes over his body. He knows he should feel riled up with anticipation but all he can muster is a dopey little grin and moon eyes to look at her with. 

“You’re almost ready for a nap,” she informs him, fingers moving to touch his thigh. “There’s just one more thing I need to take care of…” She trials off, fingers sliding dangerously close to the heat between the angel’s legs. He manages to spread them weakly, not sure he was capable of much else. 

“Oh goodness,” Crowley almost sounds a little silly using such language. “My baby boy is drenched…” She hums, a finger toying in the white curls around the front of his crotch. He can only imagine how he much look, the lips of his quim swollen and open, his needy clit hard and poking out from under its hood for attention, his aching hole quivering with want and need to clench around something, anything. 

The first touch to his clit sends a jolt through him that results in a quiet yelp. Crowley soothes a hand along his tummy as her other hand works two fingers in gentle circles around and over the sensitive nub. He groans loudly when she gently pulls the hood back, leaning in and ghosting a soft kiss against his exposed clit. 

“Mommy, please…” He whines, gently rotating his hips and clenching around nothing again. “I need something inside…”

“I thought you were full?” Crowley teases, earning a quiet whine from the angel. She chuckles softly but strokes her fingers through the slick, one sliding inside of him with no resistance. He’s thankful he can’t even feel the nail as she begins pushing it in and out slowly. He shudders hard as his insides adjust to the new sensation, every inch of him a confused mess of fire and gelatin. 

When she adds another finger he groans softly, the stretching a pleasant burn that pulses through him. She leans in again to lap at his fat clit, lips locking around it as she sucks and sends him reeling. He very nearly cums right there.

She manages a third finger and he has no idea how his body can contain so much. Between his full stomach and full cunt he thinks he might just burst. He wiggles helplessly as Crowley finds his g-spot, his body jolting and clenching around her fingers. “Mommy…” He whimpers, knowing he couldn’t possibly last long at this point.

“It’s okay baby,” she coos, breath warm against his slick skin, doubling the pace of her fingers and diving right back in to lap and suck at his clit. He bucks with need, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the overstimulation, every muscle in his body strung thin.

Then she twists her fingers just right, accompanied with the flat of her tongue nuzzling his clit into submission, and he’s gone. His muscles clench almost painfully before releasing, flooding his body with such a sense of euphoria that it would knock him off his feet if he were standing. Spasms rock him as he writhes on the bed, sluggish yet so alive. He feels Crowley stroke him through his orgasm before bringing him down from his high gently, only removing her fingers when she thought he was ready.

He watches her through hooded eyes as she crawls up over him, kissing him firmly on the mouth. She drags it out for a long moment, straddling his thighs and just pouring all of her need and love into him. He notes her nightie has ridden up, her own wet heat smearing across his skin as she grinds. 

“Would you like to watch mommy get off?” Crowley inquires after breaking the kiss, her voice airy and high, tinged with need. 

“Yes please.” Aziraphale murmurs, shuddering as she continues to grind on him. She sits up so he can watch, massaging her breasts and varying the pressure of her bounce and grind. He watches one nipple leak milk, the liquid streaking down her chest and leaving a damp mark on her dress. If he thought he could move, he’d sit up and suck the fabric clean. 

The way her ruby curls bounce as she moves is entrancing, her head lolling back in a groan and exposing the curve of her neck. He groans loudly as he watches her, weakly moving to touch her hip. Her ruts stagger a bit as she gets closer, pushing herself over the precipice and opening her mouth in a silent scream before moving to fall down beside him, limp.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as they both come down from their high, Crowley’s curls tickling his shoulder a bit whenever she shifts. Finally she moves to wrap around him, kissing along his cheek and jaw. “That… Was hot.”

“Yes, it was,” Aziraphale manages, weakly wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Do you need anything?”

“Functioning legs, but I believe those will return with time.” He jokes, offering her a soft smile. “You?”

“M’good,” she hums, burying her nose against his neck. “I think I knocked the donuts on the floor though.”

“Oh well,” he would normally be upset over such a thing, but currently he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than warm and satiated.

“How was the titty milk?” Crowley pipes up, smirking a bit.

“Delicious. Finely aged. A perfect mix of heady and sweet,” he tries not to laugh as he issues a wine review for breast milk, but it’s hard.

“Arse,” she huffs, pinching him gently before settling in, seemingly for a nap. “You going to nap?”

“Perhaps.”

“Mommy did all of this to tire you out for one,” she points out and the angel relents.

“Fine, I will nap.”

“Good, or I’d have to punish you again.”

“Don’t tempt me,” the angel jokes before settling in to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> the working title for this was "suck thine tiddy".   
also just realized i probably shouldve been typing mummy instead of mommy this whole time oops.


End file.
